I am ashamed to admit it. I’ve become one of those women. If you had a hidden camera, or Skype, spying on me this weekend, you would have seen me painting my nails, drinking wine, and wasting hours upon hours of my life watching the Hallmark channel.
I realize that this confession probably ruins the picture you had in your head of me. I’m supposed to have this hardened exterior which I cultivate through hours of watching hockey and English football. Grr. Sports. Tough girl. Maybe you expected me to be sexting cougar bait I’ve found on wellhungdating.com. (Maybe I do that too…I’m quite the multitasker, so long as my nails are dry.) But there is something about the Hallmark Channel that sucks me in, and not just their two month long sappy Christmas movie marathon. They also do Christmas in July.
There are two types of women. Red wine drinkers and white wine drinkers. There are Hallmark Channel watchers, and Lifetime movie watchers. Oh yes, there is a vast difference in the cheesy movie channel preference.
Lifetime occasionally has the sappy love story with the Hollywood ending. They also feature an inordinate amount of “ripped from the headlines” stories of husbands with 8 secret wives, or the woman who gets kidnapped and sold to a Saudi prince. Or the bible thumpers with 19 kids and they cover up one who molests his sleeping sisters. Oh wait, that last one is on TLC. But the point is, most of these movies are unrelatable with their ludicrous plotlines.
On the other hand, the Hallmark channel shows movie after movie featuring the washed up soap opera actor playing a widowed fireman who falls in love with the florist, but those crazy kids just won’t admit they are in love because he likes the Bruins but she’s a diehard Red Wings fan, until one day their priest plays matchmaker and she ends up bidding on a date with him for a charity auction to benefit the church garden named for his late great-grandmother who fled Nazi Germany, and OH STOP IT ALREADY, I NEED TISSUES. Unlike Lifetime, you know that could totally happen in real life.
Lifetime movie watchers probably can name all the Kardashians. They own at least one item from Louis Vuitton. They probably believe the emails that say Obama’s secret Muslim uncle in Nigeria is trying to steal money from their bank account. They married for money, and now look the other way when their husbands spend so much time at the gym/golfing/at sex dungeons. But they don’t cheat, because you know, they saw a movie once about a guy on ChristianMingle who stalked a woman and plotted to kill her and serve her as sushi.
Hallmark channel viewers are a hopeful sort. We love quaint little towns like Cedar Cove. We like the idea of do-overs in life. We appreciate living small, drama-free but fulfilled lives. We are dog people, and not dogs that can be carried in purses. We want to be swept off our feet, whether it be by a Prince William lookalike or the shopkeeper who really sweeps the floor. Sure the writing is a little hokey, but the subliminal messages they must interject into the movies to get you addicted makes you overlook that fact. The first one is free. Then before you know it, there goes your long weekend watching Jack Wagner and wondering why he won’t stop with the plastic surgery. Frisco wasn’t that shallow.
Perhaps my secret love for the Hallmark Channel stems from my high school and college years when I worked in a Hallmark store and had to peddle their schmaltzy movies at Christmas. Maybe it is just because I love Christmas. Could it be that I actually believe in all the true love is forever nonsense that is the fairytale ending of every one of these movies (except for the one where the guy’s wife was dying and he put up a ferris wheel in the backyard for her because he wanted to reenact their first date. That wasn’t so much of a fairytale. As Hallmark movies go, that was a downer.) So what if I do? You’re not going to use this information against me and accuse me of having feelings. Because I know you get sucked into watching them too. And I have a blog that I will use against you.
Damn it. Where did all the tissues go?